Keep You Safe

by Rona Halsall

  No, no, no! She shivers with a sudden chill.

  ‘It’s not so bad,’ the nurse says, reading her expression. ‘You’ll soon get back to normal. But you need to rest for a few days. Let everything settle down.’ She looks at Jack and smiles. ‘I’m sure this lovely man of yours will look after you.’

  That’s when Natalie notices Jack, sitting in the chair next to the bed. He grins at her.

  ‘’Course I will,’ he says. ‘When can I take her home?’

  Natalie’s breath catches in her throat. Home? She doesn’t have a home. Does he mean Mary’s? She swallows. Lech might still be there. Waiting. Or the police. That’s the last place she can go.

  The nurse looks at her watch. ‘I’ll just check with the doctor. Back in a tick.’

  Jack takes hold of Natalie’s hand and squeezes. She squeezes back, without thinking, trying to work out what needs to happen next. She has until eight o’clock, then Mary will call the police. Which Tom might have done already. And Lech is out there somewhere, hunting her down. He might be waiting outside the hospital. Or inside. She shivers again and scans the room.

  She has to get Harry today. But how is that going to happen when she’s trussed up like a chicken? Even with Sasha’s help, it’s going to be nigh on impossible. She slumps into her pillows as the question rushes round her mind, looking for an answer that isn’t there.

  Half an hour later, when Jack wheels her out of the hospital to a waiting taxi, she still hasn’t worked out a plan. The painkillers have made her woozy, her thinking disjointed. A knot tightens in her stomach.

  ‘Where to?’ the driver says as Jack gets in beside her. He starts to give Mary’s address.

  ‘No!’ she shouts, surprising everyone, including herself. She can hear herself hyperventilating.

  Jack gives her a sideways glance. ‘Just a mo,’ he says to the driver, who sighs and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. Jack turns to look at her, eyebrows raised.

  ‘I can’t…’ Natalie says.

  ‘You can’t what?’ Jack’s voice is gentle, full of concern.

  She stares at him for a moment, eyes wide. ‘Stairs. I don’t want to go up or down those stairs.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ His hand rasps over the stubble on his chin. ‘Fair enough. Hmm.’ They sit in silence for a moment while he thinks. ‘Now I don’t want you getting the wrong idea,’ he says, shifting in his seat so he can look at her properly. ‘But you can come and stay with me if you want.’ He wags a finger at her. ‘As long as you promise, no funny business.’

  There’s laughter in his eyes and her body sags with relief. She didn’t see that one coming but it’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s a great idea. Who would think of looking for a fugitive in a prison officer’s house? She feels safe with this man and her heart gives a little flutter at the thought of spending some time with him. Although it won’t be for long. Just until she can get Sasha to come and collect her.

  ‘You can stay a few days, if you want. Till you feel better.’ He looks hopeful. ‘I’ve got plenty of space. Nice spare room.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ she says. ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

  ‘To be honest, it’ll be nice to have some company.’

  She gives a tentative smile. ‘Okay then.’ She allows herself to sink back into her seat, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers, so comforting, then her eyes are closing, lids so heavy.

  After what seems like seconds Jack pats her on the knee. ‘Here we are, Natalie. Home sweet home.’

  Forty-Four

  Now

  So, where the hell is she?

  Last thing I see is someone being loaded into an ambulance. I tried calling A & E but they have nobody of her name on their records. So, I’m thinking, what the hell? She must be using a false name, which could be anything. Can’t even begin to guess.

  Then I have to go and sort out some other bloody stupid problem, which takes hours and means a complete change of plans. Everything brought forward.

  I don’t know if she’s still at the hospital.

  I don’t think she’s dead. I’d feel it if she was. And if she’s not dead, she’s not very well, is she? Hospitals kick people out so fast these days. If she’s not dying she’ll be back at that guest house. Her stuff must still be there.

  Yes.

  I’ll just have to be patient.

  Forty-Five

  Now

  It turns out Jack lives in a bungalow, on what looks like a housing development for the elderly. His place is tucked in a corner at the end of a cul-de-sac. Semi-detached with a neat lawn and flower beds at the front, a drive and garage to the left-hand side with a tall wooden gate leading into the back garden.

  Jack helps Natalie inside, holding her good elbow like she’s a geriatric. He leads her into a living room, which looks like it was last decorated in the seventies. A brown patterned carpet covers the floor, matched with green floral wallpaper and a faded pink sofa, two armchairs to match. An electric log-effect fire sits in a pretend-stone fireplace. Horse brasses hang in neat lines on either side of the fake chimney breast. The musky smell of incense hangs in the air. She sniffs. Patchouli? Three guitars are propped in a corner by the window. Pages of sheet music are scattered on the floor. A coffee table is littered with crisp packets, a pizza box and a collection of empty beer bottles.

  No girlfriend then, she thinks as she glances round the room again, unable to reconcile the house with the man.

  ‘Let’s get you settled on the sofa,’ Jack says, propping her in a corner with a variety of cushions, before draping a tartan blanket over her legs. He beams down at her. ‘There you go, snug as a bug in a rug. I’ll just er… tidy these up.’ He gathers an armful of bottles and she sees a blush creeping up his neck. ‘And… um. I’ll get us a drink, shall I?’

  He hurries out of the room before she can ask him about her phone. Because that’s what she needs; more than anything else, she needs to phone Sasha, fill her in on what’s happened and get her to come and pick her up.

  She throws the blanket off her legs, and struggles to an upright position, no intention of relaxing because there’s no time for luxuries like that. She has to find her bag. Her head swirls and she thinks she might be sick, or faint. Maybe both. She leans forwards, willing her brain to sort itself out. It’s the medication, of course it is. But how long will that take to go out of her system? She’s so far from fighting fit that any chance of getting Harry seems laughable. Except it’s not funny. Not when his life is in danger. It’s a disaster.

  Stop it! she scolds herself. Just get a grip. Where there’s a will there’s a way. And Sasha’s in perfect working order, so there’s still a chance. She sits up, slowly, the dizziness gone for now. One step at a time. Find the phone.

  Jack returns with mugs of hot chocolate, rather than the tea she was expecting, and sits in the armchair next to her.

  ‘Thought you might need a chocolate fix after all that,’ he says as he hands her a large mug, his eyes meeting hers for a second before flicking away. ‘Got to apologise for the state of the place.’ He looks around the room and pulls a face. ‘Don’t really see the mess until I have visitors. And I know it’s a bit dated but… well, it was my grandad’s house. Left it to me when he died.’ He sighs. ‘It’s been a couple of years, now, but, I’m not ready to let him go just yet.’ Jack blows on his drink and takes a sip. ‘I miss him.’

  Natalie can’t look at him because she knows what it’s like to miss someone you love and she doesn’t want to cry. She needs to keep herself alert, not wrapped up in self-pity, an indulgence that can suck hours out of your life, days even. Time is marching on and she’s got things to do. She thinks again about ringing Sasha. Then realises where her phone is.

  ‘Jack?’ She smiles at him. ‘I don’t suppose you know where my bag is, do you? Is it still at Mary’s? It’s just, I’ve got to ring my friend, you know the one I’m supposed to be meeting up with tonight. Let her know what’s happened.’ She take
s a gulp of her drink in the hope that the sugar will start to counteract the drugs.

  He frowns. ‘Oh God, yeah, still at Mary’s, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, I’ll nip down and get it for you when I’ve finished this, if you like?’

  ‘Oh, would you?’ Her smile broadens. ‘Oh, I’d be so grateful. She’s such a worrier and she’ll be beside herself if I don’t turn up and she can’t get hold of me.’

  ‘No problem,’ he says. ‘Only take ten minutes there and back. Not far at all.’

  They sit in silence for a few minutes, until she asks about his grandad and he tells her about his family, losing his dad when he was young. His mum, a nurse, worked shifts and he spent a lot of time with his grandparents as well as with Mary, his friend’s nan, who picked them up from school every day. He moved in with his grandad a few years ago, when he’d started with Alzheimer’s, and had cared for him until his death.

  His voice is melodic, soporific and she loses track of the conversation, silences opening up when she should be saying something. She struggles to keep her eyes open. Her thoughts weave in and out, blurring round the edges and seconds later, she’s asleep.

  Natalie wakes, hot and sweaty, immediately aware that something is not right. What am I doing lying down? She throws off the blanket and scans the room, eyes searching for a clock, heart jumping in her chest. Harry. I’ve got to get Harry. She has no idea what time it is, but guesses she must have been asleep for a little while. The smell of food fills the air, tomato and garlic and cheese. She hears singing, a guitar playing and decides Jack must be in the kitchen.

  Has he been to get my bag? Surely he will have done by now?

  There’s a fierce, burning ache in her shoulder and her hand, a throbbing at the back of her head and she needs a minute to psych herself up before she can even consider standing. Then she’s on her feet, swaying towards the door.

  The floorboards creak as she pads down the hall, using the wall for support. When she enters the kitchen, Jack looks up from where he is sitting at the table. But something has changed. There’s a hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before and Natalie stops, backs away, aware that she knows very little about this man and he is, after all, a prison officer.

  ‘Ah, Natalie.’ He puts the guitar down, gets up and walks towards her.

  ‘Oh, I was just wondering…’ Her back is against the wall now, Jack towering in front of her. He’s quiet for a moment, anger smouldering in his eyes. Over his shoulder, she notices a clock on the wall. Seven o’clock. What? Oh no. Her T-shirt sticks to her back, sweat breaking out on her forehead. An hour until Mary tells the police. I’ll never make it.

  ‘Okay. I think it’s time you told me what’s really going on.’ His voice is firm, jaw set as he leans against the doorway, blocking her exit from the kitchen. His expression holds a challenge and tells her that he knows something. Of course he does. He’s been trained to know when people are lying. Her eyes fidget as she tries to work out what to say, settling back on Jack when he speaks.

  ‘I rang Mary to tell her you’re here, and to say I was going to pick up your bag. And she told me a very interesting story.’

  ‘Story?’ Her heart starts to gallop.

  ‘Yes. Apparently, the police are looking for you. For a number of reasons.’

  Christ! Her mouth forms words that fade away before they can be spoken. She tries to come up with a reasonable excuse, but the painkillers have dulled her mind and her imagination is fast asleep.

  I’m trapped. That’s it. Harry’s gone. Forever.

  She hangs her head, her legs lose their strength and her body slides down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor, convulsed by great heaving sobs.

  ‘Hey, hey, it can’t be that bad.’ Jack softens and crouches beside her, a comforting hand on her back, rubbing in small circles. ‘Come on, let’s have something to eat. You’ll feel better for some food. Then you can tell me what’s going on.’

  But she doesn’t move, the weight of her despair pressing down on her.

  Jack sits beside her, takes her hand and holds it between both of his, such a comforting gesture that she has to swallow back a fresh swell of sadness.

  ‘I’m not going to judge you, Natalie,’ he says, softly. ‘I just want to know what’s going on. Be straight with me, so I know how to help you.’ His hand squeezes hers and she wants to tell him, feels the words forming on her tongue.

  ‘I don’t know where to start,’ she whispers.

  ‘How about you tell me why the police are looking for you?’

  ‘But Mary’s already told you.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I want your version. In your words.’

  ‘I… er… I...’ The words slip back down her throat. He’ll hate me when he knows. And somehow, that matters.

  ‘Look, Natalie, I’m a prison officer and I don’t think I’m going to be shocked by anything you have to say. Honestly, you’ll have to trust me on this one.’

  She looks into his eyes, and realises that she has no choice. If she’s to have any chance of getting Harry, she has to hope that he’ll believe her and be on her side. Then he might persuade Mary not to call the police. He also has her phone and without that, she has no access to Sasha, no hope of her plans coming to fruition.

  So, she tells him the tale of her sad little life, the whole story, not the abridged version she’d told Mary, words tumbling out, as she rids herself of the secrets that have been eating her alive.

  ‘And then…’ she says, as she nears the end of her story, but it’s as though she has come to the edge of a cliff and can’t move any further forwards. She turns her head away. Images flash in front of her eyes, and it’s still too shocking, too terrible to describe. Her breathing speeds up, fear squeezing her head, tighter and tighter as she relives the most terrible day of her life.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Jack says, shifting closer. He pulls her to him and she lets her head rest on his shoulder, feels the warmth of his arms encircling her body. ‘It’s okay,’ he murmurs into her hair, his cheek resting on the top of her head. ‘I don’t need all the details. I get it. You’ve skipped parole because you want to get your son back. You’ve been cheated and lied to in the worst of ways. If I was in your shoes, I think I’d be doing the same thing. That’s not to say I think it’s the right way to do things, but, you know… I understand.’

  ‘No. No, you don’t,’ she says. ‘That’s the problem. You’re nowhere near understanding. I’ve only told you half the story, the easy part. You need to know about… what happened in prison. I need to tell you about Katya.’

  He pulls her closer. ‘Okay, well, take your time. You just tell me when you’re ready.’

  She takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

  Forty-Six

  Now

  When Natalie’s almost at the end of her story, she stutters to a halt, reluctant to face the final chapter. Her mental scars have been slow to heal and now that she’s scratched the surface, everything she would like to forget seeps into her thoughts, filling her mind with nightmare images that she can’t bear to have in her head.

  She hunches over, forehead resting on her knees, eyes squeezed shut, as if that might make everything go away. But it doesn’t. Silence fills the kitchen, punctuated by the sound of her shallow breaths and the ticking of the clock.

  ‘So…’ he says, gently, ‘was she… did you kill her?’

  Natalie presses her lips together and thinks that might have been an easier outcome to accept.

  ‘No,’ she sighs. ‘No, I didn’t kill her.’ She talks to her knees, unable to look Jack in the eye. ‘I remember being pulled off her. Prison officers everywhere. Apparently, the officer at the gym had been knocked out and tied up. When she came round, she managed to raise the alarm.’

  Natalie turns her head to glance at Jack, his expression stony.

  He’s judging me, she thinks. He’s going to hand me in.

  Her chest reverberates with each thump of her heart as her
future, and Harry’s safety, teeter on the edge of a precipice. I’ve got to convince him. Got to. She grits her teeth and presses on, knowing that her life depends on it.

  ‘They took Katya to hospital, did everything they could, but she’d suffered brain damage. She’s in a wheelchair now. Can’t talk. Doesn’t know where she is or what’s going on. That’s what I heard anyway.’ Natalie sniffs. ‘And Mali, well…’ She closes her eyes and she’s back there, in the changing rooms, watching an officer check for a pulse. Natalie’s throat tightens and she can hardly speak. ‘She died. Fractured skull.’

  It takes a moment for Natalie to gather herself.

  ‘There was no CCTV footage and the only witness was Jackie, who had a learning disability. She made up a story about me starting it, attacking them all. Improbable when you see the size of the woman.’ Natalie wipes her eyes with her hand. ‘But, you know, it was my word against hers, and at the end of the day, I was the only one standing when the officers came in. The prison officer who’d been knocked out couldn’t remember anything and with no witnesses to what happened in the changing room, it was difficult.’

  Jack is concentrating so hard on her face it feels like he’s pulling the thoughts out of her head, testing each sentence to see if it’s the truth. She looks away and winces as she scrapes the bump on the back of her head against the wall. She stumbles on, determined to convince him that the danger is real. That things need to happen right now.

  ‘Nobody at the prison wanted to prosecute me. But Katya’s brother insisted on charges being brought. Anyway, in the end, I was charged with GBH. Excessive force used in self-defence, they said, and I had to do an extra eighteen months.’

  She adjusts her position, trying to ease the throbbing in her shoulder, the soreness in her limbs.

  ‘Apparently, Lech was furious, thought it was too lenient. Then a few months before I was due to be released, I started getting threatening letters, saying he was going to torture me and hunt down and kill Harry.